Justice for All

by Wayne, Joanna

  Damn. He clenched and unclenched his fists while she gave him the details. Max struggled to keep from losing control completely and pounding his fists into the table. He’d left her alone last night, a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

  “It doesn’t add up,” she said. “Why would the Avenger type the names on the list? He knows who he killed without a visual reminder. It’s not as if he’s as prolific as the Green River Killer.”

  “It’s not uncommon for serial killers to take a trophy from their victims. We haven’t noticed that in this case, so perhaps the Avenger keeps a typed list to remind him of his successes.”

  “Kind of like a gunfighter’s notches,” she mused. “But my name’s not typed.”

  “And I plan to make sure you don’t become a notch.”

  She narrowed her eyes and stared at the list. “I think he’s running scared, Max. See how garish and misshapen the letters in my name are. It’s as if he could barely control his hand. I’ll bet he knows his luck has to run out soon.”

  “Running scared will only make him less cautious and more dangerous, Callie. That’s why you can’t take any chances until the Avenger is in custody or we find out that he didn’t write this note.”

  Callie stiffened her back and sat up straighter. “I’m not going to give up my life and just hide out from the lunatic.”

  “No, but you can’t run around unprotected, either. The guy’s not only cunning, he’s a good shot. He used a high-powered rifle to take Bernie out.”

  “I guess I could hire a bodyguard.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll assign someone to stick by you from the time you leave for work in the morning until you get back home at night.” Max would feel a whole lot better with one of his top cops watching over her than he would with some L.A. bouncer turned security guard, which was about all you could find these days. But he would have to be very careful who he chose to guard her.

  “That takes care of my days,” she said. “What about my nights?”

  He gulped down the rest of his coffee and returned the note to his pocket, preparing himself for an argument that he had no intention of losing—and an emotional entanglement that he had no chance to win.

  “You won’t have to worry about the nights. I’m moving in with you, starting now.”

  “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” The protest flew from Callie’s mouth before Max’s words fully sank in. She’d lived alone for years. She swam naked, slept naked, roamed around the house naked.

  Not that wearing clothes would be that much trouble, but if he moved in with her, Max would be there when she stumbled down the stairs for coffee with morning breath. He’d be there when she cut her toenails and gave Pickering a bath. He’d be there…all the time.

  “It’s out of the question, Max. I’m used to my privacy. You’re used to yours.”

  “You can just go about your business and pretend I’m not there. I’ll take the guest room. If you don’t have one, I can sleep on the couch.”

  Sure. Just pretend he wasn’t there, when her sensual awareness level soared every time he came into view.

  “One other thing, Callie. I don’t want anyone to know that you may have been targeted.”

  “And you don’t think they’ll notice I have a cop at my heels all day and the chief of police sleeping at my house?”

  “You won’t have a cop. You’ll have an assistant, a medical student, an intern, a nurse. He won’t be in uniform, so introduce him any way that works for you.”

  That might be doable. She did have medical students assist her from time to time. “That would explain having someone in my office, not sleeping in my house.”

  “You’ve set the stage for that already. You took me to a garden party.”

  “It’s a big move from dating to living together. Besides, I’m not the type to just move in with someone.”

  “Then tell them we’re engaged.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I say. No one will buy that we’re living together.”

  “It’s not a matter of their believing we’re living together. We will be living together.”

  His voice was huskier than a minute ago, raw the way her nerves felt. She was reacting to the wrong things. It was the threat from a killer that should be claiming her thoughts, not whether or not she could handle living with a man for whom she’d carried a secret torch all these years. It would be different if he felt the same, but there was no indication that he did.

  But her name was on a victim list. She had no choice but to deal with the haunting memories and the unexplainable desire he stirred. “Okay, Max. We’ll try this your way.”

  “You won’t have to worry. I’ll keep you safe, Callie.” He reached across the table and laid his hands on top of hers. “I promise you that I’ll keep you safe.”

  She didn’t doubt for a second that he’d keep his promise. He’d keep her safe from the Avenger. Protecting her heart would be up to her.

  HE CHECKED THE RIGHT POCKET in his suit jacket for the third time, then went back and checked all the pockets in the jacket and the trousers he’d worn yesterday. The list was missing.

  If someone found it, they’d know he’d targeted Callie Baker as his next victim. That might make her murder difficult, and things were already getting far more complicated than he’d intended.

  His perfect plan was going awry. He’d never meant to kill anyone who didn’t deserve the death sentence, but first Mary and now Callie had gone snooping into things that didn’t concern them, planting land mines in his playing field. But he couldn’t let them destroy his mission.

  Three more kills. That’s all he had planned. Not murders, as the media proclaimed, but justice, meted out swiftly and equitably the way it was supposed to be.

  The mission was all important. It was his legacy. And he would not stop until it was completed and justice was served.

  CALLIE WAS STILL REELING from the latest developments as she stood in the guest bedroom while Max unpacked the few changes of clothes he’d brought with him. She’d thought the act of watching him calmly put his things away in her closet and bureau would make this move seem less provocative and remind her of the danger she faced. So far it wasn’t working.

  The only man she’d lived with other than her father had been Tony, and they hadn’t moved in together until after the wedding. She’d thankfully forgotten a lot of the day-to-day details about her life with Tony, but she knew the sexual attraction had never been this strong.

  But then she and Tony had had sex to defuse the tension. So far Max had managed to avoid so much as an incidental brush of shoulders or hands with her. Not that he was cold or brusque. He just didn’t show any sign that sleeping in the same house as Callie was anything more than part of his job.

  She’d pretty much ruled out the intimidation factor as the reason he avoided any hint of intimacy. Max wasn’t the type to be either impressed or deterred by her inherited wealth or the fact that she was a successful physician. And it surely wasn’t because she’d once been married to his cousin, not with Tony on his third wife.

  So either the sexual tension that insinuated itself into her very pores when he was around was one-sided, or else Max had his own reasons for playing this so damn cool. Her instincts told her it was the latter, but that could be wishful thinking on her part, a way to make her feel less like a schoolgirl with a crush.

  “I’m going to change into something more comfortable, then I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” she said, deciding that standing here watching him unpack his underwear wasn’t helping matters.

  He nodded. “You don’t have to entertain me.”

  “I’m not sure I could,” she admitted truthfully. “I would like to talk about the case against the Avenger, though. If I’m going to be in the middle of it, I think I deserve to know what you’ve learned so far in your investigation.”

  “That will take about five minutes.”

  “We could talk while we walk. There are just enough cloud
s that we should have a beautiful sunset.”

  “No more walks. The beach is an unsecurable environment.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Wrong. You’d be an easy target for a sniper.”

  “Where wouldn’t I be?”

  “In areas and situations I deem secure and protected.”

  “My pool?”

  “No problem. It’s surrounded by a privacy fence. You can use the deck around the pool, but not the deck that extends beyond the fence. I’ll check the other outside areas as soon as I’ve unpacked and see what else is off-limits.”

  The situation felt even more ominous than when Max had first showed her the list with her name printed garishly across the bottom. The man who had shot Bernie Brusco in the head and strangled Mary Hancock could very well be planning her death while she stood here wondering why the chief of police didn’t lust after her.

  That thought not only put things in perspective but made her blood run cold. No more walks on the beach. She was a prisoner in her own home. For that matter, so was Max.

  “Thanks, Max, for giving up your nights to protect me.”

  He stopped what he was doing and met her gaze. His green eyes took on a smoky glaze that seemed to speak to her soul. “No need to thank me. I’m here because I want to be, Callie, and I’ll stay as long as you’re in danger.”

  The frigid chill she’d felt melted away. She didn’t understand Max Zirinsky at all, but she trusted him with her life. And that was good enough for now.

  IF CALLIE COULDN’T WALK, she’d swim. She stepped out of her white slacks and panties and slipped the pale yellow blouse and lacy scrap of bra from her shoulders. Totally au naturel, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and scrutinized her figure.

  The thighs and calves were good, thanks to all the walking. And the waist and abdomen? Not bad for a forty-year-old, she decided, as she let her hands press into the firm muscles of her stomach. No stretch marks since she’d never been pregnant.

  No baby to cuddle and love, either, but she wasn’t going there tonight, not with all the other problems she had on her plate.

  She rummaged in a bureau drawer for a bathing suit and chose a light blue bikini that Mikki had talked her into buying from a snazzy little boutique in La Jolla. It probably wasn’t the least seductive suit in her collection, but it was way more conservative than her birthday suit. Not that Max was likely to notice unless she wrapped herself in crime-scene tape.

  She was wiggling into the bottom half of her bikini when the phone rang. Probably Mikki. She’d have a million questions when she found out Max had moved in, and Callie hadn’t practiced so much as one answer yet.

  She started to ignore the ring, but changed her mind when she checked the caller ID.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Callie. It’s Henry Lalane. I was about to hang up. Did I ring at a bad time?”

  “Yes, but I can talk for a few minutes. Can I help you with something?”

  “I just wanted to chat a minute.”

  She didn’t buy that for a second, not when the district attorney had never called her before. “What is it you want to chat about?”

  “Actually, I might as well just say it. Some of us were talking at Judge Craven’s party yesterday, and it didn’t sit well with us that you brought Max Zirinsky to the event.”

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “You can’t expect your friends to be comfortable around Max under the circumstances.”

  “What circumstances would those be, Henry?”

  “He’s questioned some of the most upstanding men in the community as if they were suspects. He’s stepped on a lot of toes with that attitude.”

  “Max Zirinsky is chief of police in Courage Bay. The Avenger is a dangerous killer. I don’t think any of us should be concerned about toes getting stepped on.”

  “Nonetheless, Max has never chosen to accept an invitation to such a purely social gathering before, and his presence yesterday didn’t sit too well with lots of people.”

  Callie had a difficult time believing Henry had made this call, especially after Mary’s murder. She took a deep breath. If she wasn’t so irritated with Henry Lalane right now that she couldn’t think straight, she might have saved her announcement. But she was too angry to remain silent.

  “I’m sorry, Henry, but I’ll be bringing Max to many more social engagements.”

  “If you do, you should expect repercussions. And don’t think you fooled anyone. We all knew why he was at the party. No one believes the two of you are actually dating.”

  “You’re right, Henry. We’re not dating. We’re living together. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to get back to my lover.”

  She hung up the phone without waiting for a goodbye, then dropped to the edge of the bed. Either the Avenger situation had everybody so shaken that no one was the same anymore, or Henry Lalane was basically a pretentious jerk.

  And now he’d be out spreading the word that Max and Callie were living together. Living together but not touching. She wondered what a man like Henry would make of that.

  MAX TOOK AN ICY SHOWER, then dressed in a pair of cutoffs and a T-shirt with the Dodgers emblem emblazoned across the front. He was here, living in the same house with Callie Baker, and he would handle the situation without letting his libido take charge.

  This was all business, very serious business. Determined and feeling in control, he marched out of the guest room and tromped down the stairs the same way he did at headquarters, like a bull on speed.

  Only this time he stopped midway down. Callie was at the foot of the stairs, dressed in a sky-blue bikini that barely covered her nipples and showed an enticing expanse of flesh at her stomach.

  His resolve melted like ice over red-hot coals. And all he could do was try not to drool while he pretended the desire coursing through him was nothing but a severe case of indigestion.

  It was going to be a hell of a night.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MAX SAT AT THE EDGE of the pool, his bare feet dangling in the water while Callie swam laps. Her svelte body moved through the water with the grace of a dancer. By contrast, he felt awkward, a fake, like a kid playing at being a cop.

  A forty-five-year-old chief of police should be able to separate his fantasies from reality, yet tonight his mind and his emotions were so tangled, he couldn’t begin to find the hard edge he needed to do his job the way it should be done. Only in his dreams had he imagined himself doing sleepovers at Callie’s. In his worst nightmares, he’d never imagined her the target of a mad killer.

  Callie was ten years of memories, a few regrets and lots of heat thrown into the mix. He’d met her for the first time the night he’d been the best man at Tony’s wedding. He’d just finished a stint with the National Guard and had endured thirty-six hours of flights, standbys and layovers to make it to the wedding.

  Exhausted, he’d only wanted to see Tony married and find a halfway decent bed to collapse in. The idea of a noisy, boisterous Zirinsky wedding reception had had all the appeal of a torture chamber. Max had been so tired he’d fumbled when he went to hand Tony the ring. It had fallen to the carpeted aisle and bounced and rolled its way several feet before coming to rest beneath a large brass candle holder.

  Some of the guests had snickered as he got down on his hands and knees to retrieve it, and Max had never felt like such a klutz. When he’d recovered the gold band, he met Callie’s gaze, expecting to see disdain, since he’d spoiled her perfect ceremony. Instead she’d smiled as if they shared a private joke, and the warmth in those big brown eyes had sent his pulse racing like a schoolboy’s.

  From that second he’d secretly coveted his cousin’s wife. Not that he’d have acted on his feelings. Like every guy with any kind of normal sex drive, he knew that lusting in your heart wasn’t nearly the same as making a play for another guy’s wife.

  So he’d just stood by and watched Tony throw it all away. Until…Ma
x felt his muscles tense. He couldn’t go there tonight, not when Callie was probably almost as vulnerable now as she’d been that night.

  After finishing her laps, she floated on her back. The water splashed around her body, gently swishing between her thighs and over her nearly bare breasts. When she floated to his side of the pool, she rolled over and swam to the edge. Grabbing his right foot for support, she tugged playfully as if she were trying to pull him in.

  “You could join me.” she said.

  “I don’t have a bathing suit with me.”

  “Swim without one. I won’t tell.”

  She was teasing, but it got to him anyway. Needing to kill the stirring of arousal, he jumped up and grabbed a towel from a huge wicker basket, tossing it to her as she swung onto the ladder and climbed out of the pool.

  Pickering caught the end of the towel and tried to tug it from her. Callie stooped to tussle with him, and the bikini top slipped a bit, showing mounds of soft breast. Max turned away and started back toward the house. He could only take so much.

  Callie followed him, still dripping wet and smelling of chlorine and summer. “Guess if we’re going to live together we should make some rules,” she said. Her tone was lighter than he’d have expected under the circumstances, and he knew she was working hard not to let a frightening and tense situation overwhelm her.

  The least he could do was play along. “What kind of rules do you have in mind?”

  “Roomie rules, you know, like who cooks on what nights? Does the cook clean up the kitchen? Who controls the remote for the TV in the family room?”

  “That’s easy,” he said, then made one of those male guttural noises in the back of his throat. “You woman. You cook and clean up the kitchen. Me man. Me control the remote.”

  “Of course. I think I read that somewhere.” Callie put her finger to her cheek as if deep in thought. “I think it was in one of those self-help books on how to lose a woman in under twenty minutes.”